


Run

by foureyes12, youaresawney



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Fanart, M/M, Poor bbys, constant re-editing of grammar sorry h a, like full on angst, maze runner era au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foureyes12/pseuds/foureyes12, https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaresawney/pseuds/youaresawney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho runs. He has to run. The doors are closing soon and Thomas is unconscious. Minho runs because their lives depend on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born after youaresawney doodled an angsty Thominho thing. We ended up collaborating on this monster.

It happens so fast Minho almost misses it. He almost misses the thudding sound of Thomas’s body hitting the ground, almost blending into the pacing of their feet. When his head snaps to look behind him he almost misses the blur of the griever that had slammed against the runners body. Instantly his mind flies into panic mode. Where is it? What is it doing? Why isn’t Thomas moving? The griever is nowhere to be seen, and Minho spins in in his tracks to race back to Thomas’s still form. He collapses at the other boys side, ignoring the harsh sensation of his knees as they grind against the ground. His hands find their way to Thomas’s cheeks, hold his head up and pat at the sides of his face in a frenzy. Was he out cold? Was he stung? Was he breathing? Thomas was unresponsive, and Minho’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the blood beginning to pool at the boys waist. There's no time for Minho to do anything, though. Shoving his hands behind Thomas’s back, he struggles to hoist the other boy from the ground, panic blurring his thoughts. It was too close to sundown to do anything but run as fast as he could towards the doors with Thomas’ lifeless form slung over his shoulder.

Minho runs and runs. In all his years he had never run like this. He’d ran from Grievers in panic, he’d ran so he wouldn’t be locked in at night, hell, he’d even ran with Alby strung across his back. He’d ran until his muscles had torn and he was choking for breath. That had been different though, Minho had had more time and Alby... Alby wasn’t Thomas. Now supporting this - this enigma of a boy, Minho runs not out of panic or even fear but out of pure desperation. Desperation not even for his own life but for Thomas’s. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not to Thomas. He trips over his feet, and then over the other boy's. He struggles to wind his way back through the labyrinth that he has tread so many times before, yet, his thoughts are so smudged with terror it is as if he has never been in the maze before in his life.

The said maze groans, low and rumbling, and Minho knows he doesn’t have long. He begins to recognize the walls, the gates are near. He yanks Thomas higher onto his shoulder, _we’re gonna make it, we’re gonna make it, Thomas. _He spares a moment to glance at Thomas’s cold face; dirty, bruised, soaked red, and Minho feels sick to the stomach. His fingers slip on the runner's skin, and his stride is broken as he grasps onto Thomas’s side harder.__

Scurrying around the corner perilously, his eyes clash instantly with the boys waiting on the other side. He screams out, voice cracking under the pressure, “Someone help!” He takes more staggered steps towards the gate, towards the still boys, “Someone- he’s not moving! Please!” He chokes out, a sound close to a sob.

No one moves or goes to help them, they simply watch ahead with sad eyes. Of course, the shucking rules. They’re all sissy’s that can’t break the rules, he wants to say. He wants to be mad. He wants to blame them all, tell them that it’s their fault. But he knows the rules. Knows they can’t do a thing. He whispers quietly, subconsciously to Thomas’s limp frame. Telling the other runner that they were gonna make it. Suddenly, Minho sees movement among the already mourning group waiting for them. It's Newt, he pushes aside the other boys and makes his way towards the rapidly closing walls, and hope springs to life inside Minho’s chest. It blooms bright and fierce, and he begins to pull Thomas just that much faster. He can see Newt, surging his way through the boys, he's shouting back at them. He soon realizes what an idiot he was for thinking that they would be helped, because that relief, that small flickering flame of happiness, is blotched out just as fast as it appeared. Alby - diligent, strong Alby, steps up and grabs a hold of Newt - circling his arms around Newt’s waist to restrain him from passing the gates. Minho feels his stomach- his heart drop, and he cries out for Alby to stop it. Minho sees Newt thrash to get free. He sees Newt desperate to join his friends and pull them to freaking safety. Newt screams, kicks, scrapes at Alby’s arms, but Alby stands firm, a stubborn ass not willing to risk Newt as well as the two runners, his head hangs into Newt’s shoulder, as if he can’t bear to watch the scene taking place before all their eyes. Minho has to stop himself from snorting bitterly, almost hoping that Alby feels regret and pain. And if they die, Minho hopes that Alby thinks about how they could have saved them. He hopes Alby will think about this moment everyday for the rest of his pitiful life.

But now time ticks away just as fast as Minho runs. For a moment, it feels like he's running underwater. Everything is slowing down. He has to get to the doors in time, he has to make it. He keeps running - keeps shouting his pleas for help. Why? Oh god, why isn’t anyone helping him? Why isn’t anyone helping Thomas? Minho places one foot in front of the other continuously, stumbles under Thomas’ weight, pants heavily, but no air is getting to his lungs. No one helps. In that moment Minho resents the Gladers with all his soul, he wishes that Alby had never crafted the damn rules, and he wishes he had never let Thomas come out with him. In spite of all his balled up anger, he still runs towards them. He keeps going because it’s the only way, he knows it’s the only way. He has to reach the doors in time, but he sees the gap narrowing drastically, and one by one the other boys slip out of sight. Minho runs. He keeps running just like he has to. He has to survive. Thomas has to survive. _They have to get through this. They have to. _He stutters the words to Thomas, though he knows the other boy can’t hear. They were going to escape the maze, they were going to go home. He can’t let Thomas die before they get out of this hell hole, he can’t. Tears burn his eyes as he runs and runs. His vision now but a wash of greys and beige. Throbbing against his skull, his brain feels its about to burst, apart from that and the warm weight of Thomas’s side pressing against his own he can’t feel anything else anymore. His feet move on their own accord, and his brain stops telling him to do anything. His body is hitting the ground, Thomas collapses beside him, and the last thing he hears before his mind goes blank is the crackling thud of the doors closing.__

 

 


End file.
